


Sharpie

by orphan_account



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-18
Updated: 2012-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 03:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castle and Beckett.  In bed.  With a Sharpie.  Kind of fluffy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharpie

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, all fluff and no plot. Sorry. 
> 
> For Castleland's Big Bang at LiveJournal.

It couldn't have been more than an hour after she'd collapsed into bed that she felt the mattress dip behind her.  Through her barely conscious haze she was aware of the slight chill of the raised blanket being replaced by the warmth of his body as he burrowed in beside her, gently and carefully, as though trying not to wake her.  She rolled over without opening her eyes, giving in to an urge to snuggle closer.  She stopped halfway however when she encountered something small and hard digging in her stomach uncomfortably.  The shape was familiar, although very out of place.     
  
“Castle, why am I lying on a Sharpie?”     
  
“Maybe I’m just pleased to see you.”  His voice was muffled and she knew without looking that he was lying on his stomach with his face mashed into the pillow.     
  
“Seriously?”  She opened one eye.  “You’re really going with that one?”     
  
He shifted onto his side, blinking blearily.  “Yeah, sorry.  That was bad.  Forgive me, it’s been a long night.”  His hand slipped between her body and the sheets, rooting around slowly, seeking the foreign object.  It managed to slip from his grasp, resting somewhere in the dip above her hip bone.     
  
“Castle?”  His hand had come to a halt resting against the bare skin of her stomach and he seemed to have forgotten his original purpose.     
  
“Oh, right, yeah.  Sharpie.”     
  
She could have reached under herself and removed the pen, but she was warm and comfortable and too tired to bother.  It was his damned marker.     
  
His hand dipped lower, fingers curling, and she suddenly felt the cold swipe of permanent ink on the delicate skin of her lower abdomen.     
  
She flinched, trapping his hand between the mattress and her hip.  “Castle!  The lid’s off.”     
  
“Sorry, sorry.  It must have been caught up in my clothes.”  As usual he had fallen into bed with just his boxers on.  He finally extricated the pen from beneath her.     
  
“But why did you have it in your clothes anyway?”  She was sure he’d left a host of random lines across her stomach, and probably marked the ridiculously expensive sheets he insisted they had.     
  
“Oh.  I always carry a Sharpie.”  He sounded confused.  “I thought you knew.  In case I meet a fan who wants a signature.”     
  
She rolled her eyes as she made herself comfortable again, turning onto her side facing him, close but not touching.  “Well you’re not going to encounter any screaming fangirls in our bedroom.  I checked under the bed for fans right after I checked the closet for monsters.”     
  
“No screaming fangirls in our bed, huh?  I beg to differ.”  He waved the Sharpie to punctuate his words.  “Why, only yesterday I seem to remember-”     
  
“Castle, put the lid back on.”  She changed the subject quickly.  “If you get ink all over the sheets, it won’t come off.  Honestly, you’re dangerous sometimes.”     
  
He snorted as he recapped the pen.  “Says the woman who sleeps with a gun.”     
  
“It’s in the nightstand.  I don’t carelessly leave it on your side of the bed without the safety engaged.”     
  
He dropped the marker onto his bedside table and flopped back down beside her, turning his head and smiling.  “Maybe I just wanted to sign your chest.”  He rose up to lean over her, suddenly more awake.     
  
She snorted as she pushed him away.  “You wouldn’t dare.”     
  
“Oh yeah?”  Undeterred, he settled over her again, pinning her hands above her head lightly.  “How are you going to stop me?”     
  
She laughed, slipping from his grasp and flipping them over effortlessly.  She brought her head down so that their noses were almost touching.  “Oh, when I’ve finished with you, you won’t even remember your name, let alone how to spell it.”  Then she closed the gap and took his mouth in a punishing kiss, stealing his breath before he could respond.     
  
She pulled back, leaving him panting.  Her lips began trailing down his body but his hands moved to her hair and tugged her gently back up to his face.     
  
His eyes sparkled in the dim light.  “Challenge accepted.”     
  
\--   
  
She wasn’t surprised when she woke up with his signature on her left breast.  His side of the bed was empty and she couldn’t hear him moving about in the bathroom.  The soft daylight filtering in through the windows revealed that it was still early, and she allowed herself to be impressed by his escape.     
  
She found the post-it on her bedside table, stuck to the screen of her phone.     
_  
Call me when you’re ready to wash it off.   _   
  
Clutching her phone, she flopped back onto the bed, turning her head to bury a smile in her pillow.  It was totally worth giving in to her inner fangirl and letting him win this one.  Not that she’d ever let him know that.  She’d been perfectly aware of him writing his name (how could she not be aware of his hand on her chest?) when he thought she had given in to slumber.  She could have easily broken his wrist, but instead she’d feigned sleep and enjoyed the sensation of ink on her skin and the warmth of his curled hand resting on the swell of her breast as he wrote.     
  
She brought her phone up into her line of vision and dialed his number.     
  
** End **


End file.
